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"But fair exchange, Mister. You might tell me who I have the honor of speaking to and, especially, you might introduce me to the lady?" "Oh! Eh?" and Walky looked at the blushing Janice, questioningly. The girl smiled, however, and the driver cleared his throat and gravely made the introduction. "And I'm Walky Dexter," he concluded.
It did not take Janice long one morning to pack her little leather-covered and brass-nail studded trunk, and, this done, her conduct became not a little peculiar. After dinner she spent some time in spinet practice, and then rising announced to the elders that she must pack for the morrow's journey.
She pursued this thread of thought no further. Janice wondered then and she wondered afterward if this unexplained anxiety connected Hopewell Drugg with the dances at the Lake View Inn. Could it be possible that Janice Day had alighted from Walky Dexter's old carryall at the little grocery store for still another purpose? It was waning afternoon, yet she did not immediately make her way homeward.
Janice was down on her hands and knees, with scrubbing brush and pail, when the housekeeper carried some savory dish or other into the dining room. "I presume since you had your breakfast so late you will not care to eat now," said the woman. To tell the truth, a tear or two dropped into the strong soda water in the pail.
"What art thou talking about, Jan?" exclaimed Tibbie. Janice even in her disjointed sentences had begun to unlace her travelling bodice, for with a prudence almost abnormal this one frock was not cut low, and she now produced from her bosom a paper which she unfolded, and then offered to Tibbie with a suggestion of hesitation, asking "Dost think he meant to insult me?"
Huh!" "Mebbe your father will git around to fixin' the pump staff, and he kin make that in ten minutes. I believe he's got a stick for't out in the workshop now, he won't be driv'." "Janice wasted her good money, then," said Marty, with fine disgust. "All else it needs is a pump staff, and he kin make that in ten minutes.
"But I mean every word I have said, and I won't take it back." "You and I have been good friends, Janice Day," continued Mr. Moore in his drawling way. "I never like to quarrel with my friends." "You can be no friend of mine, Mr. Moore, till the sale of liquor stops in this town, and you are converted," declared Janice, wiping her eyes, but speaking quite as bravely as before.
With this hundred dollars Hopewell started for Boston with Lottie, leaving his wife to take care of the store for the few days he expected to be absent. Janice went over to stay with Mrs. Drugg at night during Hopewell's absence. Perhaps it was just as well that Janice was not at home during these few days, as it gave her somebody's troubles besides her own to think about.
Those letters which Janice had never seen the presence of which she had not even suspected in the secret compartment of the lost treasure-box had been Broxton Day's most precious possession. Janice had lost them! Her carelessness had given the angry Olga the opportunity to take the box away with her.
How could Janice tell her of this awful thing that had happened to Sam? The poor cat had probably dragged himself off into some secret place to lick his wounds to die, perhaps. "You've seen him! I know you have, Janice Day," cried the shrewd maiden lady. "What have you done to poor Sam?" "Why, Miss Peckham! I haven't done a thing to him," declared Janice
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